Harry Potter and the Trial of the Dragon
by Avalon-16
Summary: Paige and Ann find themselves in the midst of Lord Voldermorts return, but can they find their side, without losing what they have left...
1. The Beauty of Returning Home

The trees were parted along the path to the house, its towers slowly begining to wear down over the many years. Paige could see that it had never been lived in since they had left, the shudders still hung crookedly and the colums near the one balcony seemed to have decayed since. Ann had wandered into the oak grove and was climbing one of the trees, digging into a hollowed hole dug before they left.  
"Its still here," Paige heard her sister shout. "The box is still here Paige!"  
"Is it all in there?" Her attention now toward her younger sibling. "Or has the time worn them out as well?"  
"No...no,they're all here. Even a few of the pictures I put away before we left. Even one shot of Mr. Malfoy and his son.  
Paige looked to her left, the Malfoy manor sitting high on the hill. Somehow it didnt' suprise her that her sister had kept their photo, though she wondered why her sister had taken it to begin with.   
Luicous was not really a friend of the family, although he had attempted to befriend her father. Luckily, her father wanted nothing to do with the Dark Lord or the Dark Arts, but for some reason they remained aquantances, spending hours in their libary. Besides her father, no one in their family trusted the Malfoys, even though her mother made her best to be pleasant on occations when Mr. Malfoys wife came over for tea with her husband. Draco had aloways been the smug one, always too cocky for her sister to talk to for more than a moment. For some reason he never noticed their lack of interest in him, and thus the reason he took to watching over them, constantly helping both and spending hours talking, mostly with her. Paige remember talking long into the nights her father was up with his. They spoke of many things, but nothing concerning his father. Paige knew enough that this was a bridge not to be crossed. He seemed different around her, more open, although he held back on many things. She never knew what scared him, she could only sense that he feared something, perhaps to great for her to tell. But no matter, she thought, turning her head from the great mansion. Anne had crawled from the tree and was bearing the broken down box the held her treasures. Together, they strode through the walkway. 


	2. The Hall

"Somehow things don't feel right," Ann said as she set the box aside and peered around at the dusty stairs and tables. "This place looks deserted, and mum and dad said they'd be here last week. I don't like this." Paige shivered as she slowly pulled her trunk in beside her. Indeed, the room was if it had not been touched. Old rags still covered the half packed boxes they hadn't taken and the dust had gathered into a thick forest upon the book bindings that rested on the shelf closest to her.   
"But where could they have gone? They wouldn't have sent for us if they weren't going to be here."  
"Paige, I think I'm getting scared now," Ann breathed, her eyes moving from one corner to the other. Suddenly, something dawned on both that seemed quite obvious now. Why is the hall lit down there? Look, right before the liberary. Ann leaned over and her gaze fell apon the candles that were lit, but most were almost out of oil.   
"They've been lit for some time, and look..."she trailed off.  
Paige noticed it now too, a window was cracked open, the screen was laying on the floor, almost hidden unless it was looked for. By now, Ann was shaking visibly, while Paige removed her wand from her robe, her hand quaking as she pointed it forward. Slowly, they followed the length of the hall, only find the door shut, and locked, the key slid into the hole.   
"I don't like this. I don't like this, Ann, I don't," Paige muttered, each sentence growing more frantic. Ann reached out her hand and unlatched the lock, slowly allowing the door to open.   
The liberary was aglow as the chanedlers let of their light. For the most part it looked deserted, although it was different from the rest of the house. The room seemed remarkable upkept; no dust settled on the books on the table, no shuffle from the chairs across the room that fit perfectly under each table. The fireplace showed that a fire had been lit here, but now nothing remained but ashes. 


End file.
